checkers

by nick nelson

bradley quietly opened the door to his apartment after a long day of a series of seminars at company headquarters. he sensed that something was wrong. he found his old friend frank turner, whom he had not seen for twenty years, seated at the kitchen table playing checkers with bradley’s ex-wife pauline, whom bradley had not seen in - what was it? - fifteen years. what are you two doing here? bradley managed to sputter. as you can see, we are playing checkers, frank answered smoothly. would you like to play the winner? no, bradley expostulated, i would like an explanation as to why you think you have a right to enter my apartment without do much as a how do you do? calm down, old friend, we have just as much a right to exist as you do. it is not a question of your right to exist, bradley managed to articulate. it is a question of your right to invade my space. pauline spoke for the first time. what about the right of agnes detworth to her own space? agnes detworth! leave her out of this. < p> leave her out of this? the way you left her by the side of the highway in 1985? bradley was speechless. i need a drink, he muttered. there is still some wine in the refrigerator, frank assured him. we were considerate enough to leave you some. pauline laughed, as if frank had said something profoundly witty. which, in a curiously perverse way, he had. bradley looked at the old fashioned clock on the kitchen wall. it read 7:27. just as it had on that long ago day when he had first met frank at ray’s bar, where all the sociology students hung out after class…